


A Confession of Certain Events

by Vetus



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 03:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15855402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vetus/pseuds/Vetus
Summary: Eldritch horror happens and then sex happens. It seemed like a good idea at the time.





	1. Chapter 1

I prided myself, once, on being a man of reason and science. I still remain such, ostensibly, but I find my self-confidence shattered, and faith irrevocably shaken. I can trace this reversal quite precisely to an extreme event in my life, one precipitated by that very same pride that once provided me such strength. 

It happened one night, when I was returning from my studies at the esteemed Miskatonic University. The university, one of the oldest and finest in the country, had nonetheless been plagued by quacks and lunatics, absolute madmen who would sacrifice everything, even the dignity of their university, in pursuit of their own particular fever dream. I say had, here, because skepticism had finally taken its rightful place at the helm of intellectual thought, driving such madmen from our proud gates. 

Or at least, that is what I once would have said. I’m not quite sure anymore. I’m not quite sure about anything. 

The night, previously referred to, was a clear, calm one, the kind that causes one to wish for absolute blackness to witness the stars in all their majesty. I was singing along, quite cheerfully, to a song from my youth I barely remembered. I had recently come in to the possession of a collection of Arabic manuscripts, in a obscure and forgotten dialect, and that night I convinced my colleague, the esteemed Professor Garim, to commence the arduous task of translation, after assuring him they were vital to my work. 

I planned to retire early, have a breakfast of biscuits, and check on any progress the good professor had made through the night. 

Turning the corner that my apartment was on, which was lit, as always, in the burnished gold of an ancient street lamp, I had a vague feeling of evil. A premonition, of sorts, that sent a chill up my spine. I barely paid the sense heed, discounting it to the rapidly cooling season. 

If only I had been more attuned with my innate animal nature on that night. Perhaps my studies would have continued to lead me down the same path, or perhaps I would have continued to live in ignorant bliss. 

But I strode through that front door, for the last time a sane man. Up the dull wooden staircase, I went, to room 2B. Home. 

The key went into the lock, and I began to turn the handle, when another icy chill gripped me. The sense of evil, and unreality, was overwhelming, although at the time I did not have the proper words to echo my feelings. 

This second feeling of unease enraged me. Was eight years old again, afraid to be alone in the dark? It was not until later that I realized that the long dormant part of me, the part that would have once beat its chest and yelled to the stars, primed by the weeks of research past, was doing everything in its feeble power to save my life. 

I did not heed its warning, and forced the door open, far more aggressively than I had ever done before. 

At that moment, my mind was forever changed. There was no ghastly horror in the room. No gallow’s noose, or bloodstained writhing bodies. The walls still remained, but they were wrong, like they contained more within them than possible by the laws of reality. They stretched and distorted beyond vision, forming strange angles and perspectives. 

And then there was her. 

She stood casually in the middle of the room. I was instantly repulsed by an incredibly precise feeling of sheer malice and decadence emanating from her. She was less pure than a cheap whore, more corrupted than a bloated corpse, more sinister than an assassin. She was more than any, grander than all. Her skin was as pale as death, her hair as black as the abyss. Her enflamed violet eyes, and shining pink lips spoke of something beyond pleasure. All the while, she delivered a sense of endlessly shifting, like the sands of the desert, despite remaining perfectly still. 

In a moment, my sense fled from me. I fell to my knees, and the shadow she cast contorted into hideous imaginings. Still she remained perfectly still, even when she spoke. She spoke soundlessly, wordlessly, lips never moving. I became aware of a roaring in my ears, and then became aware it was my own voice, screaming itself hoarse. And then she stated the word in grating tones. 

“Hush.”

I could not make a sound, but still the screaming echoed endlessly in my ears. 

“Silence.”

And then there was silence.

A momentary pause, and then she drifted towards me, but still utterly still, not even the air challenging her. 

She reached my paralyzed form, and extended her hand. It moved in harsh, brittle movements, like a numb doll. It touched my forehead, without sensation. I felt it withdraw, and then she spoke again. This time she spoke like a flowing willow, but still without motion, and I found this new tone even more horrible than the last. 

“You are an ambassador, of sorts. Although that implies equality, which we are not. I wish to learn how you can best serve me, how you pathetic beings can best serve me. Show me, what is it that you most desire?”

My mind suddenly filled with images: grand achievements I had completed, and future goals I desired. The enjoyment of nicotine, alcohol, marijuana. The pleasure of a medium-rare steak. The feeling of waking up in the morning, feeling alive. 

And then my body, my most treasured possession, betrayed me. Now, I am reminded of a story my grandfather once told me. He was a hunter, and had shot a deer buck cleanly. The buck was dying, yet despite that, still attempted to mount a nearby doe as its lifeblood ran dry. 

At the time this ethereal being touched me, my blood ran hard, and I remembered girls, both real and imagined. The feeling of their flesh against mine, the feeling of their pleasure against mine, the feeling of their lust against mine. 

That immovable face stared down into mine, unblinking. 

“This is what you desire, above all? A few moments of grunting, and the oft thwarted promise of a potential life?”

It seemed to confer with itself, before deciding. 

“Amusing.”

I found myself on my back, naked. To my very great shock, my erection stood, tall and proud. Despite everything, it was pulsing with blood, the thick vein outlined in the shaft. The dark purple head spoke of an intense lust as I have ever felt. 

I remained paralyzed, and she still floated above me, before lowering herself upon me, but still in that ghostly manner, as if nothing else existed beyond her presence, not even the physical laws of the universe. 

I would be lying to say this felt anything other than wonderful. The terror of this encounter still pervaded my thoughts, but it was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the pleasure that flowed from my dick, that told me this was the warmest, wettest, tightest vagina I had ever felt. 

I almost came right there, and I would have in less strange circumstances. At that moment, I could not overcome the environment out of time, or the inanimate doll I was thrust in. That is what some small part of my mind said, the one area not clouded by lust or insanity. 

She began to move, gently. She rose up, and I felt the cold air of the abyss on my shaft, and then she engulfed me again and I felt the warmth of the abyss. The feeling of her upon me was almost beyond description. She was so tight. I felt her gripping me so tightly that every time I exited her, she seemed to be trying to pull me back in. This wasn’t painful at all, but intensely pleasurable, because of her wetness. She was dripping like a waterfall, and every time she forced me inside her, gushing water spread everywhere, forced outside by my hard dick. 

My legs and balls had become covered in her arousal, and the floor, or what served as the floor in this nightmare, was soaked. 

I continued to lay there paralyzed as she used me. The only sound that echoed in the emptiness was our lewd coupling. Just the gentle soft sounds of flesh being parted as I entered her again and again. 

And then something changed. My eyes, terrified of the darkness, were resolutely fixed up her immovable face. But then her eyes widened, her mouth opened. 

And she moaned. It was a long, drawn out moan, like the mournful call of a solitary bird. She collapsed forward, hands spread, leaving great scratches upon my chest. Red blood ran down my sides, but I was far past the point of caring or pain.

My paralyzation had abated, and I found myself able to move again. I roughly pushed her off me, and stood up. She lay still, but not the stillness of before. She gently shook and twitched, as if overwhelmed by feeling. As my brain came back online, I realized she might very well be. Had this eldritch creature, knower of a million corruptions, fallen prey to simple human emotion? As I ruminated on it shortly, that seemed the most possible conclusion. 

But, my thoughts quickly turned to self-preservation. Could I escape? How to escape? I dared a look at the shifting walls, and could discover no doorway. Just the iridescent glimmer of madness. I resolved to walk to them, and see if my hands were as deceived as my eyes. 

With the first step, my body betrayed me. I felt a swaying, and gazing down, realized I was still erect. A pulse of want, of need, flowed through my being. I turned back around, and there she lay. Vulnerable. She had used me, and I had not even come. Was this not justice of a sort? Beyond that, I did not even care. She was there. She was mine. 

I strode over to her, roughly gripped her in my hands. I stared into her eyes, her wide, frightened eyes. She spoke again, this time as meek and mild as a lamb. 

“What happened, what is going on, what are you doing…”

I merely grunted to her confusion, and raised her legs above my head. I lined myself up, pulsing head just touching her barely parted lips. And then I forced myself deep, deep within her. She screamed, and her questions morphed into pleas. 

I paid no heed to her disorientation and continued my rough violation. I forced myself deep within her, violently, feeling something tear within. Crimson blood ran down my legs as she cried. She raised her hands and ineffectually attempted to ward me off. I slapped them away, viciously. I leaned forward, and bit her tender breast, marking her as mine. 

Still I forced her pink pussy to open repeatedly and accept my length. She still tried to fight me, but she was so weak that her efforts only added to my pleasure. I felt myself on the edge, and I forced myself deep within her silken pussy before unloading. I withdrew, and left her lying on the floor, fluids seeping from her. 

As I stared at her naked form, the darkness rushed for me, and I remembered no more until I reawoke in my bed. Now, I sit writing this entry. I hope, and pray, that I merely suffered a perverted dream, but I know that is a false hope. I have heard strange noises beneath me all this morning, and I fear I go to my doom. Let this letter remain, for whoever finds it, as both a will, and a warning. I hope her vengeance remains with me, and does not destroy the planet, but you, who read this, be prepared.  
Signed, John Cravere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was on a cruise, and I finished my Lovecraft collection, and then I grew bored. I wrote this, and let’s be honest, it would have been better for all of us if a horror from the deep swallowed the cruise ship whole.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it get weird here? I can’t tell anymore.

John stood up, leaving the note open on his desk. It was time to face his fate, such as it was. He strode down the carpeted stairs in his bare feet, following the noises. 

What he saw was unexpected, to say the least. Or perhaps it was what he expected all along. There, bending over the stove, was a naked girl. Her ass shook as she hummed, and she was clearly very aroused as she dripped continuously onto the floor. 

She turned around, and stared at him with lust in her eyes. She grinned, with teeth far too sharp to fit in a human’s mouth. 

“Good morning, dear. Do you want some pancakes?”

She spoke in a voice of flowing silver, and John felt chills run down his spine. He knew nothing was going to be alright ever again. But, as he gazed at her splendid form, breasts heaving, lips parted, he realized that was ok. 

“Now, let’s see where we left off…” she hummed. 

John suddenly felt the room growing, or was he shrinking, before being aware of much more startling changes. His chest grew, and other parts disappeared. 

“I think this might be more comfortable for your first time. It’s always best to work one’s way up to anal.”

“What?” came the confused response. 

“Oh don’t worry, you’re figure out soon enough. You might even have fun. I know I will, Jenny.”

And the newly named Jenny noticed that where once the woman in front of her had beautiful pink petals, an angry looking cock rose. 

“Now, be a good girl and take your vitamins.”

She found herself forced to her knees, the thick cock pointed at her face. It swayed side to side, hypnotically. 

“Open your mouth,” came the command and Jenny found her lips parting. 

She felt the back of her hair pulled sharply, and then her mouth was full of cock. She gagged as it was forced down her throat, and her head was crudely forced to service it through hair pulling. 

“Lick it.”

Jenny touched it with her tongue. It was soft and salty, she thought. She spread her mouth wide as possible, attempting to breathe around the intruder. 

“Good girls swallow. You are a good girl, right?”

Jenny felt compelled to nod, and then it was flowing down her throat. She choked it down. A hand patted her head. 

“Good girl. Now for the next round.”

The cock was removed from her mouth, dribbling. The horror moved to the table and sat down. 

“Come, sit on my lap.”

There was only one way to sit down: on the erect cock, still leaking. Jenny sat down on it. The feeling of being stretched was shocking, and she had to slowly work it inside her, but she finally reached the base. 

“I didn’t even have to tell you what to do, what a good girl. Now, make it worth it for me to feed you.”

Jenny forced herself to bounce up and down on the cock. She was rewarded with hands stroking her hair and small bites of pancake fed to her mouth. The feeling of being filled started to become pleasant. She continued bouncing, feeling the pulsing cock deep within her. It pushed against her, filling her deeply. And then it shook, and came, spraying her insides. At this feeling, Jenny came herself, sliding sideways onto the floor with a gasp. 

With orgasm, a clarity came, cutting through the fog. Suddenly, he saw himself as John again, and that was what he became. He pondered the fact that he never got to play with his boobs, before appreciating the fact that he had regained something very important for what he was about to do. He stood up, rising once again above the other. She raised a hand against him, and for a moment the nightmare rose up again, shadowy figures rising from the floor, dreams falling from the ceiling. 

And then he grabbed her and whispered, “I have something I need to do.”

He forced her off the chair, to the ground, where she lay exposed, facedown. He parted her cheeks, revealing her delicate pink rosebud. Giving her cheeks a slap, which caused her to moan into the carpet in response, he roughly, and immediately entered her. She was so tight that he came instantly, filling her. The strange magic pervaded, however, and be stayed hard within her, pumping her, using his own ejaculate as lube. Any time she seemed to be mustering some defense, he smacked her ass. Soon it was covered in red marks, but her cries of pain had transformed into moans of pleasure. She asked for him to enter her deeper, to punish her harder, and he obliged. He came again and again, shooting deep within her, and still she begged for more. Finally, spent, he pulled out. She oozed, great blobs falling out of her spread asshole. 

He buried himself in her vagina, feeling her warmth and tightness, and together they fell asleep, soaked in fluids, and exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next morning:  
> “I can’t move my legs, dear, is that normal?”  
> “Yes.”  
> “No matter,” she said. With a horrible stretching, ripping sound, monstrous wings sprouted from her back.


End file.
